𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗 | 𝐇𝐎𝐆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

barty crouch jr wasn’t privy to many moments of peace. even at the magical school, away his family and the expectations of his father and of the lord who ruled him, the bitter reminder of his future was tattooed on his left forearm. like a scar, the black ink stained his pale skin, plaguing his mind just as it did his body.

but your presence in his dorm room soothed him. the voices in his head were silenced when he felt you in his arms. but in moments of quiet, the doubts resurfaced, like they always did.

not enough time.

if he could stop time with a wave of his wand, this is when he’d do it. you curled up in the winter duvet that was strewn carelessly across his bed, intertwined with your limbs. marks of his love from last night lay scattered across your skin. lost for words, he watched silently, blanket pooling around his thin waist, hip bones peeking tauntingly from under the fabric.

his heart stopped as he felt you move, stirring from your peaceful sleep. your slender fingers tracing his mark like it was nothing. like it was just another reckless teenager’s meaningless tattoo they’d regret in their old age. like he was normal.